Destroyer of Worlds
by Botosphere
Summary: Companion fic to Kinship 'verse set right after TTB. To fulfill his fate and replenish the All Spark, Sam must first do the impossible - beat his brother Prime in an argument. Optimus is less than thrilled.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Firstly, I'm afraid that this story will make little sense unless you've read _Kinship_ and _The Tie That Binds_. If you have read those two stories, though, you'll understand (and hopefully enjoy) the tension here between their Primely roles of hunter and voice of the hunted. The chapters will be shorter than usual for me, but they'll be posted quickly (hopefully once a week). They'll also be unusual in that we get both Sam's and Optimus' perspective in each one. I hope it doesn't end up too confusing. :) ~ Eowyn77

The title of this fic comes from a singular moment in history. Upon witnessing the world's first nuclear test in 1945, J. Robert Oppenheimer, American physicist and director of the Manhattan Project, later said he had thought of the quotation "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds," paraphrasing verse 32 from Chapter 11 of the Bhagavad Gita:

"The Deity said: I am death, the destroyer of the worlds…Even without you, the warriors standing in the adverse hosts shall all cease to be... All these have been already killed by me. Be only the instrument."

* * *

Hunted

I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with my brother in our bond dream, and the heaviness in his spark made me wince. This fight began the day before the last final exam of my freshman year. We'd been having variations on this argument for weeks now, and we both knew we'd go another round tonight.

"I'm not going to let this go, Optimus."

He gave me a brother's glare. "I know."

"So why don't you just give in?"

"Sam…"

"I get it," I interrupted him. "You guys blame yourselves for the destruction of several worlds."

His grief and shame at my words were brutal.

He'd shown me, over the last several weeks, how things had gone badly after contact with other races. One species with interstellar capabilities turned the weaponry the Autobots had shared with them on each other. Another time, there was a race beginning interplanetary exploration within their own solar system when they met the Autobots. The 'bots mentioned that another planet in the aliens' solar system had life with an emerging sentience. The aliens attacked the other planet, enslaving the evolving population and stealing its resources. Optimus thought that even knowledge of their existence endangered humanity.

I could kind of see his point, but he stubbornly refused to see mine. "You think you've honed all your tech to make you walking weapons and your processors are constantly calculating how to kill. Which is a load of bull, by the way. It's only your battle computers that do that but I'll let you get away with that one for now."

He sensed my annoyance that he was going to go on another beat-myself-up trip, and he bore down on me over the bond, pinning me under the weight of his guilt. "I bear full responsibility for their downfall. Neither of those races were as aggressive as humanity. There is a _reason _we work so hard to hide from you." Then he let me go, probably thinking he'd made his point. He drew himself up to his full height. "I will not be responsible for the destruction of another civilization, Sam. I will _not _be the means by which your world is consumed by death."

"Then what about Cybertron?" I demanded, refusing to let him distract me with his pity party. "You've got a chance to make that mistake right, but I've only got, what, another 80 years? Tops? It'll be a miracle if we can get a solar harvester built and in orbit around the star the All Spark showed me before I die. You _can't _do this without us. Even with the help of humanity, it's a longshot at best."

The Prime plate on his head spun with frustration at it all – the grief and guilt over his own home's destruction, the fear of bringing that destruction to Earth, the heavy burden of others' hopes. The Autobots realized they were up against the impossible, but they looked to their Primes to make it work...somehow.

"It's my _fate_," I said, driving that point home just a little deeper than I had the night before. "It's the whole reason I'm your brother – so that I can activate the solar harvester for you. I can't be the Prime I was born to be, Orion, unless you're the Hunter."

He shook his head. "I cannot share our technology with your race. We will find another way."

"You don't have _time _to find another way." It was cruel, but I flipped through memory after memory – my grandparents' funerals, the lives cut short in the library when Alice attacked, the dozens of crushed, burned, and bloodied bodies I saw after the battle of Giza. "For once, you're going to have to _trust _another species. I could die literally any second."

He glomped me in a pained hug of the heart.

"I'm sorry," I said, holding his spark with mine and pouring into the bond my own grief and frustration at my mortality. "I wish it didn't have to be this way, but it is. It _has _to be. Pretending otherwise isn't going to do anyone any favors."

Wordlessly, he brought us into a memory that belonged to neither of us – Arcee's recollection of Elita's death. With our deeper bond, I understood what was happening this time. Starscream had created an abomination of an All Spark Cube, and to power it, he literally drained the sparks of every Autobot he could get his hands on. Elita was one of them.

"Even the power to give life can be turned to death," he wearily said, resting a gentle hand on her helm.

"You hold life and death in balance, Prime," I reminded him.

"And if restoring her life costs that of a human?" he demanded, still gazing longingly his mate. "Of a city? Of an entire planet?"

"Then that's _our _choice, not yours."

He rose to his feet and abruptly we were again on the aircraft carrier. "Choices have consequences. Not sharing our technology is my choice."

I sensed the finality behind those words and chose not to push it any further – tonight. "Fine. So where do you want to go?"

He frowned at me, knowing I was calling a truce instead of actually letting him win the argument, but summoned that profound peace of his from somewhere in the depths of his spark. When it had saturated our bond, he said, "Show me why your family values your pets so much."

Taking hold of his peace and letting it sooth me, I nodded and brought him to the moment when Mom first agreed that we could get a dog. It was a good memory, and we deliberately buried ourselves in it.

...

Hunter

When I pulled out of recharge to begin my graveyard shift, I pondered our nightly exchange as I had all this rainy season.

I was a warrior for a long, long time even before we sent the All Spark off-world. The intervening quest of our search for the Cube did little to temper that and by the time fate brought us to Earth and to the kinship we now shared with humanity, my skills as a negotiator had grown 'rusty.' I was not prepared to face such a tenacious diplomatic foe among the humans, and even less so to verbally duel with one over a bond.

Sam made some compelling arguments in favor of sharing our technology with the his species. Had we not already been the instrument of destruction on other worlds, I might have been willing to entertain the idea. However, both our experiences and that of the humans made it an impossibility. I had come to that conclusion before I ever set pede on Earth.

That was before I had a human Prime of a brother. Even now it was a little disconcerting to think the words, but my spark happily accepted them. Reflexively I reached out to him across the thousands of miles that separated us and felt him return my affection with a (as he put it) 'hug of the heart.' He was mildly confused, but when he sensed my steady calm, it shifted to amusement. I could almost hear him saying "Yes, I'm still here, and no, I'm not going anywhere." We were both acutely aware of how moved I was by this unexpected bond. His spark gave mine a gentle, knowing nudge, and then I felt him focus again on whatever I'd interrupted.

"Mornin' big guy. Pleasant dreams?" Epps greeted with a lopsided smile when I reported to the communications station.

"Yes," I admitted.

How and when he had figured out Sam and I were literally brothers I was not sure, but he'd been dropping hints and giving me knowing grins for weeks. He hadn't actually asked, and I hadn't offered, knowing that Sam would be distressed that someone else knew. But Epps was a leading member of NEST for a reason.

"It's been quiet, thankfully," he added.

"Indeed," I agreed. Quiet meant safe - whether it be from idiocy or violence. It also meant I could spare more processing power to think about Sam's points during our dream. I downloaded the shift reports but set them aside for a while, instead setting my processors to work on the problem before me.

Human nature had not changed during the last three years since I first saw and heard their archives of violence. Not even Megatron had brought weapons of mass destruction to that level. Nor had humans become significantly better at encryption or controlling access to sensitive information. If I entrusted even our most innocent technology to our closest human confidants, it was only a matter of time before it would be twisted to violent use. These truths had not changed.

The Matrix was the difference now. We knew what was needed to replenish the All Spark, and with its power, we could not only rebuild our home but our clans as well. Lives - and the bonds that wove our society together - could be restored. Every scar inflicted by our war could be healed. All we had to do was build the solar harvester and claim the life of a star, but we could not do this without the humans' help, not if we were to accomplish it in Sam's lifetime. We Autobots were too few.

It was a siren song, both enticing and deadly, and I intensely wished for Elita. She had always been a much-needed check on my arrogance, and there was a part of me that believed I could accomplish the impossible. Anyone else would be doomed to disaster, but Sam and I were driven by fate. My mate could have searched my spark to show me how my pride was blinding me (as it too often did). I needed her clear vision and wisdom. With a sudden pang, I felt how much I needed _her._

Sam's spark nudged mine again, his sympathy and worry plain to be felt, and I realized I was letting more of my emotions through about Elita than I should have. Gratefully, I accepted his comfort.

Even though I cherished our bond, I was often frustrated by the grief he brought to me now. Here was another being who knew my spark and, rather than correct my path as Elita would, he was all but shoving me down a road to destruction. He saw only the good to be gained and refused to acknowledge the danger. He was too young, too naive, to understand.

There could never be enough extenuating circumstances for me to sacrifice the life of another sentient being for gain, and the humans would inevitably destroy themselves with our technology. It baffled me that Sam could not see that; the survival of my race was not worth his life and I fought to the death for my convictions. Now he wanted me to sacrifice the whole of his world to expedite building the solar harvester. That other humans would ask for or even demand our technology was one thing, but I could not understand how _he _could be so blind.

We made our choices long ago - to fight, to die, to jettison The Cube. Humanity had no obligation to spare us the consequences of those choices. If there was an obligation at all, it was ours to protect the world that had accidentally become our battleground.

Despite his constant badgering, he would not sway me, and the sooner he realized that, the better. I had millennia of experience that gave me a perspective he did not have, and with it, I had the wisdom to make this decision.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: IronRaven recently posted an amazing fic set in the Botosphere 'verse titled "Precursors: Etymology." Seriously, go read it!

* * *

Hunted  
A few days later, I went into my dreams better equipped than ever before. I'd talked with Mikaela about it, and she had some good ideas, too. I was almost eager to turn my arguments loose on him.

"Optimus," I greeted him.

"Brother," he acknowledged.

"I still haven't given up."

He gave me a pointed look. "Nor have I."

"Okay, then." I bounced a little on my toes. "So what exactly is the problem with giving us _only _what we need to help build the harvester?"

"Your species is resourceful, Sam, and we've witnessed your capacity for war."

"Yeah, well, we don't _just _make weapons, you know."

He just gave me a Look (which I totally would have missed without the bond) and disbelief washed from his spark to mine.

"Okay, yeah, pretty much anything _could _be used for a weapon, but most of the time it isn't. Most the time, it's not even intended to be. I mean, September 11th was fought with box cutters and boiling water and airplanes. But we still ride on airplanes and use box cutters and make coffee every single day without using them to kill each other."

He shook his head and stubbornly stared out across the ocean.

"Being resourceful just means we're resourceful. Sometimes that's good and sometimes it isn't, but it's like punishing us for being smart."

"If your species is advanced enough for our technology, they will discover it on their own."

"Sure, if it's for _our _benefit. But it isn't. Optimus, I _want _to help. There are a lot of humans who would if they really knew what was going on. I'm not talking weapons. I'm talking things like techniques for refining ore. Ratchet's always ranting about how inferior the metal is here."

Turning toward me, he planted his hands on his hips. "There is no technology so innocent that humans could not put it to violent use."

"Like Starscream and his twisted All Spark Cube?" I challenged. "You do realize you basically just said we're all a bunch of Decepticons."

"I will not share our technology with humans," he declared.

"Yeah?" Pushing deeper, I dove into his mind and hovered over the bit of code that would wake him up. With an imagined push of a button, I could set off his internal alarm clock. "Seems to me that at least some humans can be trusted with your tech - not just any old tech, either, but the processor of a Prime."

He vented a sigh of frustration, and I retreated out of his head. "Yours is not the only worthy race. Our brothers used those exact words. You're keeping humans at arms' length because you're prejudiced."

Genuine anger bubbled across the bond and I mentally backed away. I really didn't want a repeat of our first big fight.

But he sensed my withdrawal and pulled me into a tight hug of the heart, not letting me get far. Neither of us wanted this argument to actually put a wedge between us, even though I wasn't about to budge and it looked like he wouldn't either. I didn't even try to resist him and said in a low voice, "Love ya, too, Optimus." It was time to move on and dream of something else.

…

Hunter

Despite our pleasant shared memories, I was still furious with my brother when I pulled out of recharge. Prejudice had nothing to do with our refusal to share our technology. My judgment was based on the very real and compelling evidence that human nature was inherently violent.

It would not take a charismatic sociopath like Megatron or even a twisted glitch like Flatline to destroy humanity. Far more concerning to me were the humans who assumed that theirs was the only correct path and were willing to indiscriminately kill those who disagreed. A blinding sense of superiority inspired far more harm than outright malice.

The people who were sure they were always right were far more dangerous than those who knew they were wrong. That was how it began with Megatron. The council had given him the tremendous trust of protecting not only our lives but the Cube as well, and he took that responsibility very seriously. At first, he was motivated by nothing more than the well-being of our people; I knew this because we were still bond-brothers. It took more than a dozen human lifetimes for the disillusionment of politics to begin taking their toll. Even then, it was a subtle shift in thinking. He began to believe that these squabbles among the powerful were not his concern. Let them worry about energon distribution and good relations with other races. He was the Protector of Cybertron and that was responsibility enough. They would advance their causes and he would advance his. That was the pattern of the Primes who each had their responsibilities and trusted their brothers to look to their own offices.

It was almost two dozen human lifetimes before I recognized another subtle shift, this time more in spark than in processor. He didn't trust the council. It was not until I'd met my brother Primes that I realized _this _was where Megatron went astray. The pattern of the Primes was a division of power, yes, but it was also fundamentally built on trust. Without trust, there was suspicion of motive and jealousy of power. Without trust, Megatron felt that the mechs who wanted to make peace with another race were undermining his own labors as Protector.

Slowly he began to believe that any councilmech who disagreed with him was opposed to him. Over time, he decided that if they were so arrogant as to oppose their own Protector, he was duty-bound to oppose them. As Protector, he was obligated to assume as much of the council's power as he could, since they clearly could not be trusted with what they had.

About that time, our parents were extinguished. Not until my own death did I learn Megatron was the one who murdered them.

The making of a Cybertronian tyrant took millennia. Humans were fleeting in all they did, and their tyrants rose and fell in a cycle of decades at most. They were so quickly corrupted and so apt to forget. Everyone from rogue individuals to entire nations could turn in violence against their brothers in a frighteningly-short period of time, even if it took several of their generations. I could not permit them access to our technology.

I was not prejudiced; I was simply observant.

But I was also brother to a human Prime, and I still did not understand the full ramifications of that fact. Our brother Primes told us some of the significance. He was the voice of the hunted to the hunter, the check on my power to take and give life. He was a companion, a bond-brother, and cherished kin. Like me, he was tasked with the many roles of a Prime, roles that had previously been shouldered by seven mechs. We complemented each other.

He was also, as he pointed out, a reminder that mine was not the only worthy race. My brothers didn't elaborate; I suspect it was because there were many ways in which humans were worthy and it would have been too time-consuming to list them all.

The humans were worthy of our respect, of our protection, of our friendship. One of them was even worthy to be a Prime. I could not, however, consider them trustworthy. I would be hesitant to share the knowledge of our weaponry even with Sam. No amount of urging or arguing the expediency of sharing that knowledge would change my mind. It frustrated me to no end that Sam refused to see the wisdom of my choice. I would not yield, even if it meant we were unable to replenish the All Spark. I made my choice in Mission City. The survival of Earth was worth the sacrifice of my entire race, if need be.

I was so sure of my course that I would sacrifice not only my own life but the lives of innocents for my convictions. I had condemned my one-time brother for doing the same. It was a sin for which both Megatron and I bore the blame. Megatron was so certain he was right that he would crush others underfoot rather than be dissuaded; I was willing to sacrifice our entire race rather than yield. Our bond might be severed, but I was and always would be Megatron's brother.

What I was doing now went beyond the necessary evil of opposing the Decepticons. Like Megatron with me, I was distrustful of Sam. The realization shook me.

Kind encouragement swelled across the bond, though there was a hint of hesitancy to it. After our argument last night, I was not surprised that Sam was concerned. I clung to my brother Prime, focusing inward to center myself. For all our fraternal similarities, Megatron did not share the peace I could always seem to come back to. Sam happily absorbed that calm, and I could sense I still had his undivided attention.

Bonds defined relationships among my kind, but we were also defined by our bonds. I was Megatron's brother, and that truth had defined me for a very long time. He and I were binaries, poles. Now I shared a bond with another brother who was alien in so many ways, and Sam disturbed that balance. For the first time since accepting the title of Prime, I truly had the opportunity to choose my fate. Would I choose to be Megatron's brother or Sam's? One was carved of adamant, and the other was from a race that was 'squishy' in more ways than one. I was mere metal, caught between the two. I was inevitably influenced by them, but there was always a choice and this was no exception. To embrace Megatron's influence would be to turn away from my bond brother. To embrace Sam's influence would be to turn away from the convictions that had carried me through this endless war.

There was always a choice, but that didn't mean I liked my options.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Apologies on the delay. Those who want to read my sad excuses are welcome to hop on over to our Yahoo group, but in the meantime, here's some love from author to reader. ;) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Hunted

"So," I said the next night after the usual greetings. "Here's the thing. You know the Civil War, the U.S. one I mean? We didn't have Megatron around to reverse engineer anything. Right? 'Cause we didn't start working with him until 1930's. Same thing for the First World War. We figured that all out on our own. We probably didn't get much help from Cybertronian tech in World War II, either. At least not until the end."

He glanced at me sidelong and cautiously admitted, "Humans developed nuclear weaponry independent of us, it is true."

"So, yeah, the time period in which there was the least global conflict in the last hundred and fifty years was when the digital age began. Computers, cell phone technology, satellites…we owe all that to you guys. Which means we can blame you for Facebook but not for the nuclear arms race. Kinda ironic, don't you think?"

For the first time in this battle of wills that had been going on for most of the summer, I felt a slight give in his stubbornness. "Yes," he slowly agreed. "It is ironic."

"So...?"

"I stand by my decision."

Except...he didn't have quite as much conviction behind the words tonight. I pounced on the unexpected opening. "Even though we've had Cybertronian tech for like four generations and are still around to talk about it? In fact, we're probably better off because of it."

"It is only a matter of time, Sam, before even the information gleaned from Megatron is put to catastrophic use."

I frowned at him, catching a wisp of emotion, and suddenly felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. "It's not humans you distrust, is it? It's you."

I felt his spike of surprise and smiled just a little. "You think that you, personally, are the destroyer of worlds. But you know what? Even if you are as dangerous as you think, it doesn't matter. You're right – it is only a matter of time. All of us are going to die sooner or later. We're human; we do that. Everything for us is a matter of time."

He straightened his shoulders. "I will not hasten your demise."

"I'm the Human Prime," I insisted. "And I'm speaking for _my _race now. We can handle it. We've _been _handling Cybertronian tech for close on to a hundred years."

"A blink of an eye."

"A lifetime," I snapped back. "We're resourceful because we _don't _have as much time as you and so we have to be quick studies to get anything done. We _learn_. And while there are some dangerous people in this world, it's not you guys that have made 'em that way. We're hunters, too. We _get _that there are risks in everything."

"You also seek out unnecessary risks," he pointed out.

I frowned at him. "I'm the voice of the hunted to the hunter," I reminded him. "I've done some research on that. I can't tell you exactly what our brother Primes meant, but the glaring thing to me is that the hunted still die."

He stoically stared out over the ocean, trying to ignore my reference to my own mortality. "It is my fate to hunt stars, not other sentient species."

"And it's my fate to speak for the people who rely on those stars, not the stars themselves. And I'm telling you to trust us. We've got that whole yin-yang thing going - you _need _us." Frustrated, I stepped in front of him so that we were eye-to-optic. "There's a Cherokee belief that before a hunter kills his prey, he explains to the animal why he needs to hunt and asks the animal's permission to take its life. As they see it, the animals understand that hunter-and-hunted is the natural order of things, but the hunted also command respect. You. Need. Us. You need _me. _Courage and sacrifice, remember?"

He narrowed his optics at me. "I need you _alive _if you are to activate the solar harvester. There is no difference between destroying your sun and destroying your planet by giving your race technology they are not prepared for."

"We work opposite of that," I insisted. "The bloodiest conflicts our world has seen have been from weapons _we _created. We get the tech and then grow into it."

"At the cost of millions of lives."

"Choices have consequences, but we've learned from them," I pointed out. "It's been close a few times, but we haven't destroyed each other yet. We have better survival instincts than to start launching nukes."

"Mutually Assured Destruction," he murmured, and his stubbornness eased up a tiny bit more.

"Yeah. We're squishies, and we knew that long before you guys ever came along."

…

Hunter

It was only a matter of Time.

When we decided to stay on Earth, one of the first things I did was research the planet's myths and legends. I knew from experience that much insight could be gained about a culture from the stories they told about themselves, about where they came from and which values were most important. I had not been prepared for the sheer volume and diversity of human beliefs. Eventually, though, certain patterns became clear.

One of the most puzzling patterns was how time itself was frequently anthropomorphized. I'd never encountered another race that made myths about such an abstract and innocuous concept. To us, the passage of time was an opportunity to gain knowledge and to accomplish goals.

The humans' view of time was startlingly alien. The Greek god of time Kronos ate his children. Kala - literally 'Time' - was the destroyer of the worlds and slayer of armies in a Hindu sacred text. It was strange that a sentient race would fear mere time so intensely.

Now I understood. No matter my choices today, the passage of time would inevitably rob me of my brother. Time would claim him.

As never before, time _mattered _to me. We did not die of old age. Our frames were not subject to the same gradual, living decay that humans endured. It wasn't until I was fully bound to Sam that had this sense that time was a predator slowly closing in.

Sam was truly the hunted, but not by me. The natural order of things, as he put it, was his own death, but I could not bring myself to be the instrument. Time would claim him, not me, not my choices. I would lose him soon enough.

Time was a swift hunter.

The thought was chilling and I mentally turned away from it. Our brother Primes could not know of the relatively-obscure beliefs of a Native American tribe. Even the All Spark could not contain that knowledge. I could not deny the truth of Sam's words, though. The hunted still die. A small part of my spark ached at the injustice of it, that I would find Sam, that he would save my life twice over, that he would become my brother, and that he would die so soon. I'd had a hand in most of the tragedies our race endured, for good or for ill. This was completely beyond my control.

A part of me desperately wanted to evade that hunter, and were the circumstances different, I might have tried to find a way to extend or preserve Sam's life, but that was not his fate. His role as Prime was predicated on his short-lived, frail nature. The best I could do was to burn into my memory every moment with my brother Prime to cherish when he was gone. It was extremely frustrating that so far I had memories of arguments more than anything else.

Our lives were intertwined, our sparks were bound. The irony was not lost on me. I was old compared to Sam. Ancient. My people all were. Even Skids and Mudflap were older than the humans' first use of the wheel. Yes, their tyrants rose and fell in mere decades. So did their most brilliant sparks. They had to burn through an entire lifetime of experiences in a vorn, a mere 'year' to my race, though when compared to human lifetimes, it was more like a month.

We lacked the urgency - the vibrancy - of humanity. A human Prime gave to us a sense of _time_that we did not in ourselves possess. But in my processors, I knew our time was quickly running out. I could only make energon when the need was great because the All Spark no longer held enough power to independently produce it. It had to absorb vast amounts of ambient energy for just a few drops. Even if I was supplying only my Autobots, we could not last for more than a few hundred years - a millennia at most - before our frames began to starve and, in extreme cases like Ironhide, go into stasis lock. It was no accident that the oldest of us carried the remaining energon. The All Spark could not be unmade, but like Sam and like us, it was running out of time.

It was not just Sam and I who were bound now. The fate of my entire race was intertwined with his. It was an interesting concept to apply yin and yang to flesh and frame. In many ways humans and Cybertronians were the opposites it described. The problem with that model was that yin and yang are two parts of a whole. The front and back of a hand together make a hand. If we were yin and yang, what did Sam and I together become? What would humanity and the Autobots together become?

Sam was wrong that I did not trust myself, or rather, I distrusted far more than just myself and humanity. I distrusted the new thing that, together, humans and Autobots would become if I let our fates become any more tightly bound. Perhaps that new Whole was what I distrusted the most. We were too different in some ways, and too alike in others. Perhaps we would work together better than I anticipated, complementing and balancing our strengths and weaknesses. It seemed far more likely that, being too similar in the wrong ways, we would throw each other into a greater imbalance.

Not for the last time, I wished for Elita. I was only half of that self she and I together made, and I came already unbalanced into my brother-bond with Sam. Whose side would she take in this argument? For an astrosecond, I flattered myself that she would side with me, her mate. She was far too wise to mindlessly take my side, though.

Without question, she would be the counterbalance to Sam that she was to Megatron, helping me stay grounded. Sam would accept her, though, as Megatron never did. He would welcome her perspective, I had no doubt, and she would be the tie-breaker as the humans put it. She could bring to bear the ethical and moral philosophy of dozens of worlds, though in my spark I knew that would mean nothing to Sam. He had made up his mind. Above all the intellectual arguments, though, she knew how to handle a stubborn Prime.

_What would you say, dear spark? _I whispered into the aching, broken bond. _What counsel would you give?_

There was only deathly silence in answer, but ghosts of her thought from aeons ago flitted through my processors. Freedom had been a guiding virtue for her, and it was one that defined and drove the new self our sparkbond created. But free will was not enough.

_We are in her research office in the Political Philosophy department. I come here more and more frequently as our friendship grows and deepens. Megatron had come home in a fury because the council had voted in favor of an alliance with a race that, in my brother's view, was too weak. They would be nothing but a burden on us in the event of an actual conflict._

_I am pacing Elita's office, and she is perched on the desk. _

_"We strong have a duty to the weak!" I say, frustrated with my brother. "Not simply to protect them physically but to protect their rights! He is the High Protector! How can he not understand that?"_

_"What rights, Optimus? Megatron isn't the Protector of the entire galaxy."_

_I huff, knowing she of all 'bots had already thought long and hard about that question. She is trying to lead me to the answer like a sparkling. I'd be angry if I didn't admire her so much. "If we enjoy a right, then any sentient race should as well."_

_She tilts her helm thoughtfully. "Freedom of self-determination, of thought and its expressions, of respect."_

_"These truths are so simple Megatron and I learned them while still in the academy as younglings."_

_Elita half-smiles. "They are only simple until you try to define them." She hops off the desk and steps in front of my pacing. Another reason I admire her - there are only a handful of mechs who would stand their ground in front of me when I'm agitated, and my mother is the only other femme who would. "Take justice, for instance. The most just place on our world is the Temple at Simfur."_

_I nod. "All are given equal gifts with equal deference. It doesn't matter whether you're a noble or a common laborer."_

_"Or it is the most unjust place on our world because everyone is given the same gifts regardless of their individual __**needs.**__ A noble could buy vats of energon, and yet the temple guardians give him the same amount as a common laborer who doesn't have a single credit to his name. In some schools of thought, that is extremely unjust." _

_"The poorer mech isn't entitled to more," I protest. "He's entitled to no more nor less than any other."_

_"What makes either of them entitled to any of it?"_

_Despite myself, I am getting frustrated with her. "It is the law."_

_"Who decides it's the law?"_

_"The Dynasty of the Primes, in this case. They could read the glyphs on the All Spark, and the All Spark is the creator of energon. The Cube can declare the terms on which we receive its gifts."_

_She rises an optic ridge at me. "So who decides all sentient races are entitled to the same rights as us?"_

_That catches me flatfooted. "It is logical," I finally answer._

_She half-smiles in that winning way of hers. "Which is your way of saying 'it's plain to me so it must be to everyone.' Logic can only be stretched so far to shape around an opinion. You're on the right track, though."_

_"Says you," I retort, drawing myself up to my full height._

_"Says __**you**__," she shoots right back, her smile broadening. _

_It only takes a couple of astroseconds for me to understand. "It __**is **__plain to me."_

_She nods in earnest this time. "And that is where any ethical stance must begin. Arguments can be made for absolute moral authorities, but ultimately, you must choose for yourself. We don't idly call the Cube the All Spark, and our sparks come into being with a moral compass derived from that same light."_

_"As Alpha Trion would say, that light can be extinguished."_

_"It can also be kindled," she reminds me. "If it is truth from the All Spark it will resonate in __**our **__sparks. As with justice. If you are not entitled to something, it is not justice that you receive it. That is true for every philosophical system I've encountered. If you fulfilled your duty, it is not justice to condemn an ill result. Defining duty and entitlement are the difficult parts, but justice is absolute."_

I had my answer, and a tendril of gratitude reached toward the broken bond before my spark remembered Elita did not exist anymore. I shoved the stab of grief aside by focusing again on the present. Most likely, she would have sided with Sam. My brother had a duty to fulfill for the All Spark - we knew this from the Dynasty of the Primes themselves - and I was actively impeding him accomplishing it. Whether I was wrong or right in my views, I was being unjust toward my brother.

I knew it in my spark and had ignored that knowledge this entire season, wallowing in arrogance and clinging to feared consequences. The voice of the Hunted had spoken, and whatever Whole thing Sam and I made together, I was the Hunter Prime. It was time I at least listened to what he had to say.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: So sorry about the delay! The kids start school tomorrow, so I'll have a lot more time on my hands soon. Please know that I eagerly read each and every review, and thank you so much to everyone who has put this fic on their favorites and alerts. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Hunted

"Sam," he greeted me a few nights later. There was something...different about his mood. He wasn't giving in yet, but he was willing to at least entertain the topic.

Deciding I'd better handle this carefully, I simply answered, "Optimus."

He nodded in acknowledgment and then plunged into a speech that felt vaguely rehearsed. "We have argued for many days, and I admit I have not been open to your point of view. That has been unfair to you. We are at an impasse and neither of us have been willing to negotiate. I still feel my position is right, but I intend to more carefully consider your perspective. I ask that you do the same for me."

From anyone else, I'd think this was a trick, but this was Optimus and I could feel the sincerity in his spark.

"You have raised some interesting points. However, I cannot agree to share our technology with humans. As you said, your race is not only resourceful but also adaptable. Mutually assured destruction was a deterrent when the conflicts were between governments, but that is no longer the case. Now the conflicts are primarily ideological."

I frowned a little. "Terrorists."

"Yes," and it was kind of scary how much anger and disgust he could put behind that one simple word. "If I grant your race access to our technology, it will end up in the hands of those who would use it to kill indiscriminately."

I ran my fingers through my hair, frustrated. "If they really want to kill people, they're gonna kill people, Optimus. That's my whole point! From the time we first learned we could punch somebody, we started upgrading to rocks and then bigger rocks and then sharper rocks and then spears and bows and arrows and swords. Yes, we want to make sure the bad guys don't get their hands on the worst stuff, but violence is part of human nature, like it or not. Just like you and all your weaponry."

He rolled back from that emotionally, and I realized I'd hit a nerve. Pressing the point, I said, "We're not so different when you get right down to it, _brother_. You've got the Matrix even though it's tech so advanced that it's practically magic to you. We don't need that big of a leap. Just teach us how to refine ore well enough that Ratchet can use it, whether it's for fixing Bumblebee's voice or building another solar harvester. Yes, there's a risk, but it's no bigger than you walking around with the power of the gods in your pocket."

He shook his head, his fierce frustration letting me know it was time to ease up. I sighed, realizing he was probably right. I thought hard for a second and then said, "What was your first weapons upgrade? You said you didn't always have energon swords."

He gave me a calculating look, his spark letting me know that he knew exactly what I was doing, but a couple of heartbeats later, he vented a sigh. "It was a sidearm. An ion rifle."

Abruptly we were on Cybertron, walking along an unfamiliar street. The mech beside us was unmistakable, though: Fortron, Optimus' father.

"Don't misunderstand," he was saying, "I'm very proud of you. You'll make a fine engineer. I'm just disappointed that your mother won out. You were offered a good position within the Defense Forces, too."

Optimus' mild frustration rippled across the bond. I got the feeling this had been a point of contention in his family for a while. "I've made my decision, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't change my mind. I gave Pillar my word for two vorns of service when I was sworn into the guild."

Placating humor flowed into Optimus' spark, an echo of what Fortron had felt in this moment. "And I respect you for that, son, on both counts. I merely want to give you a graduation present." He paused and looked pointedly at the shop beside them. It was a weapons retailer.

"You're serious?" Optimus demanded, suddenly aglow with excitement.

"You are of age," Fortron answered, "and with all due respect to your mother, you were not sparked for a science-build. You wear the frame of a leader, and you will be great in whatever you set your hand to. You are a scientist now, but you are also the son of a warrior of Cybertron, and I want you to carry part of that heritage with you." Then he clapped Optimus on his shoulder and led him into the shop.

They spent a long time, looking at everything from crossbows to swords to cannons. A clerk escorted them around, explaining the specs and features of the different things they were looking at. Some of the weapons were sleek and beautiful even in my human eyes - as much a work of art as a weapon. Others were brutally lethal-looking, like something I'd see on Megatron or Ironhide. The swords were very expensive, mostly because of the installation cost. You could just subspace a gun, but energon swords had to be integrated into your circulation systems. There were some cheap blades that were just metal, but Optimus didn't even look twice at them.

Finally they wandered into the used-weapons section, and after examining and setting aside a couple of arm-cannons, Optimus hefted a rifle.

I'd never held a gun before and, after Mission City, never had a desire to. Fortron was right, though, and Optimus had a strong dose of 'warrior' in his spark. The balance felt _right_in his hands. Through my brother's optics, I looked down the sights of the rifle and saw with precision analysis just how perfect the construction was. And the weapon was his style, too: simple and efficient.

"I want to test this one," he announced.

"Good. Which other ones do you want to try out?" Fortron asked. "We can take up to four onto their firing range."

My brother shook his head 'no.' "Just _this_one."

"You have a good optic for quality," the clerk complimented, and with dismay Optimus noticed the price-tag. It was more than half as much as an energon blade and cost more than many of the new weapons he'd looked at.

_I was prepared to buy you a set of energon blades to match my own_, Fortron assured him over their bond. _Whatever you wish for here is yours_.

Optimus glomped his father in a hug of the heart that made the older mech chuckle, and he returned his son's affection with full force.

On the firing range, Optimus really, truly fell in love with the rifle. It was unfailingly accurate and with just a standard power pack it could pierce every target the clerk set up except the equivalent of military-grade armor. He'd have to be in the Defense Forces to get the power pack for that.

_It could handle military use_, Fortron assured him. _I'll have to see if we can't smuggle that rifle past your mother and bring you down to a real shooting range. We can get our servos on some armor-piercing power there._

As Forton paid for the gun, I asked Optimus, "So what did your mother think of it?"

Abruptly we were in his family's living room, and Optimus was showing off his rifle to Megatron. When Optimus offered it to him, his younger brother eagerly held it up and took aim at the living room window, looking down the sights.

"Megatron," Sunset snapped. "Watch where you're aiming!"

"It's not energized," Optimus protested, holding out the disconnected power pack as evidence.

"I don't care," she grumbled. "You should know better how to handle a weapon." Then she glared at Fortron, and judging by how his parents muted their bonds, Optimus knew they were having an argument about their children's lack of responsibility with firearms.

"Here, my turn," my brother insisted, reaching to take his rifle back from Megatron.

The younger mech swung it out of Optimus' reach. "Hold on for an astrosecond!" Then he examined the barrel. "Does this shoot projectiles, too?"

"Yes," Optimus proudly answered as he snatched it back.

Megatron snorted, even though he couldn't quite block his intense envy. "If you have to resort to shooting bullets then you've already lost."

"When you graduate, you can choose one that's only an energy weapon."

I sniggered at how defensive Optimus was feeling of his rifle, almost to the point of being protective.

"I will," Megatron declared. "An arm cannon."

Optimus rolled his optics, and a ghost of Megatron's envy and competitiveness swelled across his brother bond. "A fusion cannon!"

"Hold it," I exclaimed as something dawned on me. "You mean Megatron's fusion cannon is him _compensating for something_?!" It suddenly made so much sense!

Optimus paused the memory and gave me a blank look, his confusion sweeping across the bond.

I just burst out laughing so hard it left me wheezing for breath. "Google it later," I finally managed through my guffaws.

…

Hunter

I stood watching the sunrise in the waking world, my hand protectively covering the compartment in my hip where the Matrix rested. Compared to the Cube, the energies of this incarnation of the All Spark were quiet. My own fields masked it from all but medical scans. It was safe here, unless someone knew where to look for it. Unfortunately, Decepticons had somehow learned that secret and it had nearly cost me my life. Again. Ratchet was designing a better storage compartment for it - an insulated space close to my spark chamber that would be shielded along with the rest of my core. I would not be carrying around the power of the gods, as Sam put it, in my pocket for much longer.

It had been less than a year since I learned my full heritage. For less than a brief, human year I'd been the steward and protector of the Matrix, but I was born a Prime. It was my fate to one day avenge the Primes who had gone before me. It was my fate to become the guardian of the Matrix. I understood these things now, though I still questioned the path of destruction that had led me to this destiny.

Before I met Sam, the name of Prime was a title I received as a mark of honor from those who followed me. They who fought for so noble a cause deserved a Prime to lead them. Since we lacked one, I accepted the role. I knew it was simply that - a role. Every choice was made with the survival and success of my Autobots in mind. I had no illusions of grandeur that I was a build apart from my brothers. I was simply another a mech, albeit one with some significant gifts and abilities.

Earth, however, changed the War, and Sam changed everything.

As I studied their transmissions before arriving on Earth, I was struck by how similar the humans were to us. They were all younglings, understanding so little and with a potential so great. Most of our own children had been extinguished in the War. Despite their violent nature, the thought of these young ones also perishing awoke something fierce and deep within me. I had failed our little ones on Cybertron. I could not let the same fate befall this innocent Earth. This was my line in the sand, as the humans put it.

With the Decepticons already on the ground, I was fully aware that the Cube might fall into their hands. I had no doubt that the results would be catastrophic and that, if Megatron had the advantage of the All Spark, both the Autobots and Earth would fall.

It was then that the darkest, boldest, most blasphemous idea took hold in my spark: destroy the Cube. Destroy both the Autobots and the Decepticons in one fell stroke. Destroy my fellow warriors and kin. Destroy any hope for my race. End the endless War.

I recoiled from the thought, but the compulsion to destroy the All Spark seemed to grow with the strength of Earth's gravity as we approached it from above. I knew before my cometary form began to warm that on this planet I would destroy the Cube. As I waited, consumed with frustration while Sam and Mikaela frantically searched his room for the glasses, I finally settled on the means. I would destroy both the Cube and my own spark. No penance short of taking my own life could compensate for what I was resolved to do. Even that would likely not be enough. Megatron would be a sainted Prime by comparison. I would both commit genocide against my own race and kill the avatar of Primus. Not even the humans had a demon so dark.

It made no sense, and yet I'd never felt more certain of my course with the sole exception of bonding with Elita. This was a matter of the spark and the spark alone. With an arrogance that was frightening even at the time, I followed the path that felt like destiny. Even more disturbing was that when I told my Autobots what I intended to do they still followed me with no protest beyond Ratchet's concern for my own life. Fate was laying its hand on us all.

Sam was part of that fate, I quickly realized. I saw the qualities of a Prime in him - the bloodied, organic youngling protectively cradling the Cube I needed to destroy. I knew that, despite my resolve, I would not have the strength of will to end my race and myself and the War, so I did the unforgivable. I asked him in his ignorance to commit this unthinkable sin. He had courage enough; he understood the necessity of sacrifice. Let him stand in as a Prime for me as I had for the Autobots. Let his hands deal justice to me, murderer of my people and my creator.

Instead, Sam spared me and killed Megatron.

It was a memory I shared with no one. Piece by piece, the All Spark burned to nothing in Sam's hands. Piece by piece, it tore away Megatron's spark, smelting it. Through it all, Sam stood untouched at the core of the maelstrom, fulfilling the role of a Prime as I had intended. This, too, felt like fate, and my spark faltered before it. Justice had been done to Megatron, and mercy had been granted to me. Both were terrible. Then it was done, and Sam scrambled aside, a frail and frightened child once more.

In millennia of war, I had seen the empty frames of younglings and kin and even my mate. Seeing my severed brother's cooling, empty shell was a new kind of grief, one saturated with regret. With him died any chance for reconciliation, and Megatron was lost to me forever. It was not the fate I would have chosen for him, but his fate had never been mine to choose. My only options were letting Megatron destroy both the Autobots and humanity or saving humanity at the cost of our future. I could not let the humans pay for our mistakes. To his dead frame, I confessed, "You left me no choice, brother."

When I turned, Sam was still stunned, rooted to where he stood and gaping. He'd lost the bearing of a Prime, but he'd also wielded the Cube. There was greatness in him, even if it was not visible now. Now all that was visible was shock. It was my hope that he'd never learn that he'd also doomed me and my Autobots to extinguish from energon-starvation. This boy had done what I and the mightiest of my race could not: ended the War. Whatever our ultimate fates might be, it was I instead of Megatron who would govern the final vorns of our race. It was a precious gift.

In the present, the energy of the Matrix stirred, and I moved my hand to shield it even more, but it quieted again. Through the twists and turns of fate's design, I was now the Matrix-bearer. The All Spark I'd felt compelled to destroy was housed in my own frame. There had been a bigger picture, as the humans put it, and it only came about because I'd gone against my own better judgment and followed the instincts - or inspiration - of a Prime.

My better judgment now was to keep our technology out of human hands. All of my fears, my guilt, and my arrogance could be set aside except for the one inescapable fact that human hunters, whether they were terrorists or money-driven criminals, would kill their fellow beings. Sam had no argument against it except to say that it would have happened anyway.

Unlike with the Cube, I felt no compulsion to share our technology. But then, destroying it was my decision and mine alone, and the boy simply aided me in that task. Now the one feeling compelled was Samuel Prime. Until this moment, I had thought of his dogged determination as youthful human enthusiasm. As I considered my own irrational compulsion to destroy the Cube, however, I was beginning to wonder if there might be more to Sam's motives.

If my choice to destroy the Cube truly was rooted in the will of the All Spark, Sam might also be motivated by a power beyond himself. If that were the case, I might have to go against my own better judgment again and make a leap of faith. As his brother Prime, I might have a duty to assist him like he assisted me in Mission City. Last time, it was my own race I'd put at risk in order to save the humans. This time, the humans were the ones I would place in danger in order to save my race. It was as unthinkable as destroying the Cube. Perhaps it was as unavoidable.

The thought was beyond troubling. Fate had been cruel to untold numbers of Cybertronians, despite the survival of the All Spark and my own resurrection. I could not in good conscience entrust the whole of humanity to its fickle mercies, and my conscience was the guide of my destiny. Fate did not negate freedom but was revealed by it. If it was my fate to assist Sam in this, then it had to be in a way that was compatible with my own spark if not my processors. This was still _my_ choice.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Optimus reflections in this chapter on humanity's family tree comes from www . sciencedaily releases/2004/09/040930122428 . htm For clarity, this is NOT the mitochondrial Eve (who is modern humanity's direct matrilineal ancestor) but rather a male or a female that every human alive today can claim as a common ancestor through matrilineal or patrilineal descent, or a combination of both.

* * *

Hunted  
It was another week and a half before I thought up another argument to throw at Optimus. "So..." I said as I joined him on the flight deck. "You're going to just take from Earth and give nothing back?"

He shook his head, feeling oddly defeated. "There are vast resources in your solar system beyond Earth."

"And you're really gonna take 'Bee away from me to put him in a mine on Europa or somewhere else off-world?" Like a sudden punch to the gut, I realized, "You'd go, too."

He bowed his head, duty and his need for kin wrestling across the bond.

"You don't have enough mechs here to do this by yourself," I urgently pointed out, not letting him get a chance to actually say that he would leave the range of our bond if he had to. I wasn't ready for that even if he was willing to make the sacrifice. "You've got a whole planet full of people who can help." I half-smiled. "We're talking some serious human resources."

"I will not enslave your race!" he rumbled.

"So pay us!" I insisted, my own determination pushing back against his anger. "You're already rolling in dough. And if you would sell even the simplest tech..."

"That would be little better," he interrupted. Again, where I expected frustration and maybe irritation, there was only a heaviness in his spark. "You'd be reduced to minions."

He was softening, I realized, and I latched onto that weakness. "No. We would be your brothers."

That brought him up sharp.

"Okay, yeah, little brothers. Baby brothers, even. But if you really believe that this is your home, if you really believe I'm your brother and it's your fate to be here, then you've got seven billion kin here, too. Otherwise, this is just another stop on the road. You've gotta decide."

Again I felt him ease up a little, more thoughtful than just blindly stubborn. "To quote Quinn, you would not give a two-year-old a hunting knife."

"Yeah, well, we're already playing with knives. And with guns. And with nuclear weapons. And even some Cybertronian tech. Are you going to let us learn the right way to handle all that from our own mistakes? Or are you going to lay some ground rules? Or, better yet, you could actually teach us."

"We are an unworthy example."

I stepped in front of him, my fierce confidence swelling across the bond. "Are you better than us or not?"

He opened his mouth to protest, but my impatience cut off his weary frustration.

"Because you keep saying that we're too young and violent. So which is it? Are you older and wiser or not? You said once that I was a Prime to the Autobots as much as I was to my own race. Do you still believe that's true? Because if it is, then you are a Prime to my race just like I am to yours."

I had him then, and we both knew it.

"Look," I said, trying soften the blow. "None of us are perfect. We just need you to do your best. We need you to be _Optimus_."

...

Hunter  
Ironhide was sand-coated in the morning light, already putting his fellow Autobots through their paces at Boomtown. He was relentless with Skids and Mudflap, but they were on their way to the med bay for repairs and Arcee was the one now training with Ironhide. I was next, and I idly watched them.

My mate's sister and their sister's mate - both Ironhide and Arcee were kin, though they were severed from me. Arcee was the one holding the clan together now, invoking sister privilege for Elita, Moonracer, and Chromia. It was an act of profound amity to stand in the stead of them all. It was a heavy burden to watch over her kin and, to the best of her ability, offer the support and protection of our extinguished and missing mates as only she could. She was the older sister of them all and had known their sparks from the moment they had been brought online.

There had been a time when sibling privilege was the exception rather than the rule. I still remembered when my parents and their creators and kin had been an actual clan. My father's father Stromancer was bound to a femme named Solar Flare and was our clan leader. It wasn't until I myself met the Dynasty of the Primes that I learned his was actually a clan name. My mother's creator-sisters were Beta Three and Starsheen. Through them we were bound to Alpha Trion's clan - all two dozen of his descendants, plus the brothers and sisters they created. When allied with us and others, Alpha's clan rose to the strength of a tribe.

We weren't strong in might alone; we were strong in the spark. The mechs and femmes to whom I was bound were a web of support, of guidance, of affection. I had more than a hundred bonds: primary, secondary, and kin. All of their sparks touched mine. It was difficult to remember now, not because my memory degraded like a human's but because it made the grief so much greater. In that moment, I chose to remember anyway. I had forced myself to forget them for too long.

There was Metatron, my father's friend-turned-brother from a seer clan with whom he created a younger brother named Chiron. It was Chiron who first gave me the sparkling-name of Orion. Metatron had another brother, a temple guardian named Tyr with whom he created Rune and all four of them allied with my grandfather's clan. Polymer was a small-framed mech from the industrial guilds department of the Science Division, and with my father he created a youngling brother named Ultra Magnus. Magnus was bigger than both his creator-brothers, and my father was taller than both Megatron and I. I still couldn't help but smile at the memory of him carrying his creator brother in much the same way I carried Sam. Magnus was created shortly after Megatron was sparked, which technically made him younger than us though he came of age a couple of orbital cycles ahead of me. In many ways, he was more brother than uncle, and he stood by me throughout the War. Like Chromia, he was lost to the stars and I didn't know if he still lived or if he'd already been extinguished. There was also Diadem, a commerce-clan femme with whom my mother created a sister named Amber, and her mate and three sparklings - Sterling, Adamant, Gilt. Into the midst of all that came Elita as my sparkbound mate, bringing with her Arcee and Chromia and eventually Moonracer, Lancer, Flareup, Firestar, and their mates - Ironhide, Ratchet, and Inferno.

The tribe began to erode when my grandfather was extinguished, and with my parent's death, Megatron and I were cut off from the entire clan. Our only connection to them was through my parents, and neither of us had entered into creator-brother bonds. Megatron and I alone remained, and he was already preparing to sever our brother bond. I was never so grateful for my mate as I was after my parents died. Through her sisters, I was still kin-bound, but more importantly, she and I together were strong enough to anchor a new clan.

We tried to forge a new bond with Alpha Trion when Elita created a sister with Beta Five, Beta Three's granddaughter. Corona was her name, and her brief life brought a pang of sorrow all its own. She was created after Megatron corrupted the Cube, and she was born with code The Fallen had programmed into the surface of her spark that demanded she obey my former brother. Even that could not override her will and she made the only free choice she thought she had. Rather than betray those she loved, she severed her bonds and committed suicide. It was her death - so devastating for us all - that convinced me we needed to remove the All Spark from Megatron's custody. Stealing it was what sparked the War.

Though we were never as many as Alpha Trion's, we were a strong clan. When I accepted the title of Prime, the members of my clan were called Prime-bound and my Autobots took special care to protect them. That is part of why so many of my kin still survived.

Now our clan was shattered as thoroughly as Elita's spark. We continued to take our stand on Earth as severed kin, isolated and utterly alone in our sparks. Sam had hope that Elita would be reignited, but until that day, I was incapable of being a clan leader. I was halved without her and alone I was not strong enough to anchor one. Arcee was doing all that could be done, binding our clan together by frayed threads.

We supported her in that role as best we could, watching over our severed kin and her, standing in the stead of her sisters. That was why Ironhide didn't pull any punches as he sparred with her now, to keep her as sharp as Chromia would have. That was why Ratchet was on his way to join us, knowing Moonracer wouldn't make her sister limp all the way back to the medbay for repairs after a brutal training session. That was why I turned a blind optic to the fact that Arcee and Bumblebee had broken one of our most fundamental regulations - because Elita would have not only approved of their deepening relationship but would have encouraged the two of them.

They were ghosts of bonds, but we clung to them. The social infrastructure of my entire world had been destroyed. But as he did in so many ways, Samuel Prime changed everything. Hunted and Hunter, we were kin. Cybertronians no longer had clans. Through the bond I shared with my brother, however, I was now part of a _family_. Sam was not a clan leader; human cultures no longer functioned that way. He was related, though, to every single human being on Earth. According to their own research, the most recent common ancestor of all the humans now living likely lived less than 3000 years ago - a short time to us. I was bound to Sam and he was blood-bound to the rest of humanity. Like Amicus Prime, Sam stood with a foot in both worlds. Our bond was literally a bridge between his race and mine.

Ratchet arrived and started berating Ironhide for the amount of damage Arcee had sustained. Predictably, she bristled at the slightest insinuation that she couldn't handle a bigger and more heavily-armed mech, and Ratchet had his servos full as he bickered with her. Arcee insisted that Ratchet repair Ironhide first, since she wasn't really _that_ damaged and she didn't want to make me stand around all day waiting for my chance to slag Ironhide. Ironhide joined the verbal fray then, and my spark warmed despite the fact that we were such a dysfunctional clan. We shared a camaraderie, an amity, that was the closest to happiness any of us could come anymore.

A curious nudge over my brother bond reminded me that it wasn't entirely true, and I allowed my wry humor to flow freely across the bond.

_Yes_, I mentally told him, though he was too far away to hear it,_ they warm my spark._

He wrapped me up in his happiness, so young and unsullied that I wished my severed kin could feel it and find the comfort and encouragement in it as I did.

Even as I made that wish, a new thought took hold in my processors. The tribes were destroyed. I could not alone anchor a clan. Any future for my kind lay in the human race. The Whole we could become would be new - neither family nor clan but something more fundamental. A kinship. And if humans were kin, I had an even deeper duty to protect them. If they were my "baby" brothers and sisters, if Sam and I were creators of this new Whole, I also had a duty to guide them as their older brother.

The thought boggled the processors and made my spark sing. I could not in good conscience use the human race, but we could work together with Sam and I guiding our kinship.

Trusting Sam meant embracing this new Whole. I felt foolish for not seeing the connection sooner - the creation of brother bonds only occurred with the creation of a brother. Though it was not literal in this case, the underlying truth remained, and this new kinship had been created by the All Spark months ago. The choice as to whether the Autobots and humanity would form a new Whole was not mine. The All Spark made that decision when it bound me and Sam as brothers. My choice was whether I would accept the kinbonds with my younger, human brothers and sisters that were created when I was bound to the human Prime. The thought resonated in my spark, filling me with a certainty that this was the right choice, despite my previous misgivings.

Ironhide finally shook Ratchet off and made his way toward the training ring, and I moved to join him, my certainty growing stronger with every step. Every human alive was my kin as much as Arcee or Ironhide or Ratchet - with all the responsibilities that relationship entailed. Here was the answer I'd hunted for all this rainy season. I would be the Prime that my brothers - human and Autobot - needed me to be.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed this fic or added it to their favorites and alerts! Your encouragement keeps me writing! :) Also, with apologies to Notre Dame, I confess that in this case life inspired art. (Google "Sunbelievable paint" after you've read this.) ;) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Hunted

I knew something was different before I even went to sleep. Optimus had bled this weird mix of almost manic happiness, fear, and worry into the bond for hours. Compared to how...centered he usually was, it left me feeling really off-balance myself.

I admit I was kind of nervous about what might happen during our dream and so it took me a long time to finally drop off. He was waiting for me at the end of the flight deck as usual.

"Samuel," he said in greeting.

_Samuel? _I just looked at him, deeply disturbed. "Where'd that come from?"

His wry amusement was so familiar it was comforting, and I wrapped myself up in it. He sensed that, of course, and his affection deepened, too. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"You are a Prime," he said, apparently in answer. "I have not shown you the respect you deserve."

"Not really, but um...okay?" This was really getting bizarre.

"You have done something remarkable, brother, something that aeons of war and loss could not accomplish. You have humbled me."

Before I could think of a response to that, he shocked me by dropping to one knee and bowing his head. "As Hunter to Hunted, I come before you. My people are starving and will die out entirely without the All Spark, and I cannot replenish the All Spark without endangering you. As a race, you have done nothing deserving of this fate. I can see no other way and feel that one with more wisdom than I has guided me to this path, but this is still your choice. I ask your permission to place your life and the life of your entire kind in jeopardy. This is not something I do lightly..."

"I know," I interrupted him, finally recovering from my surprise. The sheer weight of the moment, the significance of it, left me almost breathless. I was the human Prime, yes, but was I really qualified to do this? Was _anybody_? Did I have the right to speak for the whole of humanity? My brother Primes seemed to think so, but it was still a lot to deal with. Talk about a conversation bomb! I didn't think he'd had any left. Guess I should have known better.

I looked at my _kneeling _brother and realized this was another way I complemented him. Even if I wasn't exactly a leader in the human world, somebody had to help him shoulder the responsibility of this decision since Optimus clearly couldn't on his own. It was paralyzing him, and I could lighten that load.

I knelt in front of him, placing one hand on his shoulder and touching my forehead to his helm. "Yes, Optimus. Orion." Choosing my words carefully, I said, "As the voice of the Hunted to the Hunter, I give you permission to put this world in danger and to let fate, dictated by humanity's choices, decide the outcome. And for what it's worth," I added, wrapping him up in a hug of the heart, "I think you're doing the right thing."

He lifted his head, his spark embracing me right back. "Good. We move forward as kin, as brothers. I have a few tasks for the Human Prime if we are to minimize the risk to your race."

"I'm in," I agreed, starting to overcome my shock. "Just don't ever, _ever, _call me 'Samuel' again. You seriously made my hair stand on end. It means I'm in trouble. No, scratch that, trouble is like Decepticons or even Megatron. You calling me 'Samuel' is a lot worse. It's like my mom using my middle name. It means I'm in really, _really _deep slag."

His amusement rolled across the bond to fill my own heart. "Agreed, _Sam._"

...

Hunter

"Major Lennox," I said as soon as he entered the Autobot hangar. "I require some of your time this morning."

"Sure," he answered. "How urgent is it?"

"Urgent."

He glanced at a corporal stationed at ops and nodded. With that simple gesture, his schedule was cleared. I transformed into my alt-form and he climbed in through my open door.

"Well?" he demanded once we were out on the road.

"You are aware that the Autobots do not share our technology with alien races."

He snorted. "Yeah, kind of noticed that."

"Your race is no longer alien."

He froze, sat up a little straighter, and then narrowed his eyes at my steering wheel. "If this is Sam's idea of a prank..."

"I assure you, Major Lennox, that this is entirely Sam's idea, and it is not a prank. You are aware of our bond and its significance."

"Yeah? You're brothers because of it."

"Yes. And you are blood-bound to Sam."

He sat back, letting his breath out in a gust. While this definitely wasn't a prank, it was rather amusing to see him stunned speechless like this. "You are blood-related," I added, just to be clear. "You are kin with him, even if you and Sam are hundredth cousins. And he is kin to me."

"It took you this long to realize that, big guy?"

I rocked slightly on my axels in embarrassment. "It took recent events to bring that fact into its proper perspective. I trust Sam. It is _his _wish that I share our technology with humanity."

"You've been arguing about this all summer, haven't you," he guessed. "Ever since you first started talking with me about building a solar harvester that could be moved off-world."

"We've discussed it," I admitted. "I am prepared to share with humanity all the technology necessary to build the harvester. I will continue to withhold any unrelated weapons technology."

He eyed me warily. "Just like that?"

"No. I have my own terms and conditions."

He grimaced ever so slightly. "Of course."

"I trust _you_, Iron Will," I reminded him. "However, any Cybertronian technology I release will eventually end up in the hands of those who would kill indiscriminately. I am fully aware of this. I wish to share our technology in a way that will reduce the risk involved. Sector 7 successfully introduced numerous advancements under the guise of human innovation. I believe I should follow suit."

"Whoa!" he said, sitting bolt upright again. "You mean you're not giving it to _us_? To NEST?"

"That is a detail that must be decided between you and me before I contact your superiors. I am inclined to give you, NEST, and the US military the first use of our most dangerous technology. Then it will be shared under a pre-set parameter determined by its destructive potential. The most sensitive information will only be shared with those Sam called the 'nuclear club.' Any nation that has responsibly handled nuclear technology - be it for energy production or military purposes - will have access to that same information. I cannot 'play favorites' and complete my objective of keeping Earth's sovereign powers in balance."

He clearly wasn't happy, though he seemed to understand. "And the non-sensitive stuff?"

"That will be released piecemeal under the guise of civilian human invention. For this, I will require corporations that can research, develop, and market the technology we need to build the harvester."

"Hold on a second," he blurted out. "You're going to use civilians? _Corporations_?"

"Sector 7..."

"Sold their souls! Optimus, come on!"

"Will," I sternly said, and he visibly forced himself to calm down. "Those are the terms. Do you believe your military will agree to them?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "Maybe? Probably not all of them. I mean, civilians..."

"Sam will handle the civilian aspect."

Will half-laughed. "You're going to trust a kid with finding honest corporations? That's practically an oxymoron."

"The Human Prime will find a way if this is fate," I reminded him. "We will proceed, though it will necessarily be a slow journey. Before we can know all the technologies we will require, we must have a basic design of the harvester. Some things will be necessary regardless. The first priority is improving solar energy production. If we are to use your resources to build our solar harvester, we are not going to destroy your world's environment in the process. Even the paint on our finishes functions astronomically more efficiently than the most advanced solar cells here on Earth. Getting that technology into general use must come first. That will be followed by upgrading battery and other energy storage. We will also need vastly improved metallurgy and ore refining."

Will frowned thoughtfully. "This isn't going to happen in Sam's lifetime."

His words touched a chord of grief in my spark. "I know."

"So why...?"

"I have long fought a losing war."

He nodded grimly, understanding as one soldier to another that there are some things you cannot surrender to. Two of them were fear and despair. "At least Earth will get something out of it," he finally said.

The next several weeks and months were spent arguing with virtually everyone _but_ my brother. My Autobots objected to sharing our technology at all. US military leaders argued against sharing the technology with their fellow nations and with civilians. US civil government leaders argued against sharing our technology with their own military and about our intellectual property rights. Sam stood with me through it all and we together began the first, most basic steps of putting our plan into action because, despite their many protests, everyone involved wanted this to happen too much to walk away. The humans saw how much there was to be gained, and we Autobots knew our very survival depended on it.

When I was confident that we would successfully beat out the necessary treaties, charters, and contracts, I requested permission to make yet another transmission to the stars. It was approved a week later.

I went alone to the proving grounds and stood under the sun for a long time, reviewing in my processors all the reasons I was here and what I would need of my friends and fellow warriors. In the end, I decided that there was one truth they needed to know, one that would guide them even if my life was as brief as my brother's.

Lifting my face to that nourishing sun, I declared, "I am Optimus Prime, destroyer of worlds and hunter for my kin. I send this message to any Autobots en route to Earth: if time has already claimed me before you arrive, know that the humans honored us with courage and wisdom that belies their youth. They truly are worthy to stand with us. Stand with them as kin and brothers, always.".


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue:Instrument

In the deep cold above Char, Soundwave drifted in a silent orbit. The Decepticons retreated to this planet after the destruction of The Fallen - for a while, anyway. He would have much preferred to stay near Earth, if for no other reason than its proximity to its sun. But even Soundwave's near-invisible espionage was too dangerous. Megatron was smarter than to unnecessarily risk one of his most powerful officers. Unfortunately, it meant there was some significant delay between a transmission from Earth and its reception on Char.

The powerful transmission arrived before the humans' recent bandwidth cacophony - clearly it was an Autobot who sent this blanket announcement. It did not take him long to break through the encryption, and Soundwave commed his master. "Lord Megatron, I have intercepted an Autobot transmission. It is from Prime."

Surprised, the Decepticon leader sat up on his berth. "Send it to me at once." He listened closely to the short message, and his optics narrowed suspiciously. "That's rather morbid for you, Optimus," he murmured. He knew the spark of the mech who had once been his brother, and the long vorns of battle had only honed that insight. This went far beyond the brooding Optimus was prone to, and whatever catastrophe Prime was contemplating, those maggots were part of it. He opened the channel again. "Something has changed, Soundwave."

"My lord?"

Smirking now, he said, "I believe Prime is willing to sacrifice the humans for whatever he's planning next. The survival of our race wasn't a good enough reason for him to abandon his convictions. I am _curious _what is. Something has changed," he decisively repeated. "Find out what!"

"Yes, Lord Megatron."

The warlord made himself more comfortable on the medbay berth, letting the repair micro-drones continue their work on his damaged helm. "Very curious indeed."


End file.
